


Skies

by ebonbird



Series: Faith and Song [4]
Category: Star Trek 2009
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonbird/pseuds/ebonbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Location, location, location.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Riley knew what was what when he asked for Uhura to sing for him in TOS' The Conscience of the King.

Spock stood beneath the balcony, listening to the song from the woman hidden from view. That so rich a voice came from so slight a body gave him no small bemusement. She sang of green glowing skies and the distance between herself and her heart.

He knew the instrument accompanying her singing, given to him by his father, an instrument he had mastered.

It was good that Sarek had survived the destruction. While Spock had never been judged Sarek's better in formal competition -- too free with meter was often the critique or some other variation of code for 'too human'-- despite his mastery, Spock did not consider himself the best representative of Vulcan's music.

The music flowing from the apartment above him tripped through keys with grace and dexterity. The music, and playing, was human. Very little in the emotions conveyed was ironic or sly. Amanda would have appreciated it as the player was someone who had 'let themselves go'.

Spock stood straight and brushed out his jacket. He ascended the stairs and let himself in quietly.

Nyota didn't see him. She sat by the open balcony door-- in his meditation robes, holding his lyre, her legs tucked up on his couch, dim against the the stark material.

As he anticipated, upon seeing him, Nyota leapt from the couch and approached him.

He held up two fingers, index and middle.

"Spock, what?"

"Please do the same." He held up his hand, waiting. She mirrored the position.

"I am right here," he said.

She considered him, her head tilted. His lute cradled against her hip. "I don't get it."

"The words of your song. I am right here, Nyota."


End file.
